


On a Balcony

by airspaniel



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-04
Updated: 2008-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes you just need a happy ending, however small.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://yumemiru-kikai.livejournal.com/15810.html)

In the nights following the witch’s defeat, Azkadellia had taken to sitting on the Palace’s wide marble balcony, feeling adrift and unaccountably lonely.

She had a family again; a mother and father, and the baby sister she had once thrown so terribly away. They had all taken her in with loving arms, wiping her tears away and soothing her with kisses; with promises of love and acceptance and forgiveness.

But she felt distant, from them and from herself. She had spent so long with the witch defining her, giving her a focus and wants and a reason to exist. And now that the witch was dead and the bells had tolled in celebration… she didn’t know who she was. Who Azkadellia _really_ was.

And so she sat under the black night sky, sometimes lost in memories. Sometimes simply lost.

Sometimes she felt almost content, stretched on the cool marble, at one with the silence and the dark. Her eyes slid shut, the cool breeze caressing her face, and she let herself smile.

Suddenly, there was a sound, a soft velvet rustle at her side, too quiet to be a person and yet too loud to dismiss as the wind. She turned towards the noise, eyes half open.

It was a mobat. Small and black, with the faintest traces of pink around the nose and ears. The creature cocked its head quizzically, mimicking the expression Azkadellia wasn’t aware she was making.

They sat regarding each other for a long moment.

“She… she’s dead,” Azkadellia managed. “You don’t have to serve her. She won’t order you around anymore.”

The mobat quirked its head in the other direction, and Azkadellia was seized with the irrational desire to make it understand her words. “Didn’t you hear me? You can go. You’re free!”

The little creature ducked down, as if considering this new information. At length it looked up at her, eyes deep and inscrutable. She looked back and smiled encouragingly.

The mobat hopped closer to her, head still lowered, and eyes still on hers.

“I don’t remember your name,” Azkadellia blurted, wincing at her tone and feeling ridiculous that she was worried about insulting a _mobat_ , but the mobat made a cheerful little chirping noise and slid even closer.

So she stretched out her hand, palm up, offering it for the creature to sniff or otherwise investigate, however it was that mobats assessed potential threats.

She sort of felt like she should know this already, but the witch had never been especially tender towards her servants. Except for Zorra.

To her surprise, the creature scurried forward, butting the top of its head against her hand as if demanding to be petted. She laughed for the first time in annuals, it seemed, and ran her hand affectionately over the mobat’s softly furred wings.

The mobat made a series of whuffing noises, which she guessed meant it was enjoying itself, and that only made her laugh harder. It clambered into her lap, rubbing against her other hand, as if it craved all the affection and attention she could possibly lavish upon it.

Her smile grew even wider as she buried her other hand in thick black fur, hugging the creature tightly to her chest.

“I don’t remember your name,” she repeated, “but I can’t imagine it was very nice.”

The mobat chirruped its agreement, burrowing further into her embrace. Her hands stilled momentarily as she thought, and the creature pulled back inquisitively.

“Joy,” Azkadellia decided. “Can I call you Joy?”

The mobat made a sound that was very like a laugh, and wound its long arms up and around her neck.

Azkadellia grinned. “Joy it is.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Joy Takes Wing (the on the balcony remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/388649) by [NEStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NEStar/pseuds/NEStar)




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